She Who Laughs at Funerals
by SergeantPixie
Summary: Elena and the week after her parents died.


**She Who Laughs at Funerals**

_~Before~_

_The last thing she remembers is her dad's hand on hers. The feeling of his hand is distant, hazy, but it's real. It's the last thing she has of him. She does not remember the arms around her waist. She does not remember heaving water from her lungs. She does not remember the sudden appearance of the ambulance. She does not remember the disappearance of the man that pulled her from her family. _

_ She only remembers her father's hand on hers, and the sudden absence of fear that it brought. She only remembers closing her eyes and succumbing to the silence around her. She doesn't remember being saved._

_~Now~_

_Day One_

She wakes up with her fingers threaded through Jeremy's. His head is resting near her hip, and for a hazy beautiful moment, she wonders why he didn't crawl into bed with her. That's usually what he does when he has a nightmare. Why did he bring the chair over from the window and sit next to her?

It occurs to her in varying degrees that she is not in her room. The scratchy sheets are her first hint. Then the narrowness of the bed, the smallness of the room. The lack of any personal touches. Aunt Jenna asleep in a chair opposite her, Uncle John next her.

The dull ache in her torso becomes clear just as she registers her location. She's in the hospital. What happened? Her bones ache, her throat burns, her head is pounding, so she closes her eyes and lets sleep pull her back down into the darkness.

Just before she sleeps, she wonders why her parents aren't there. She has a brief recollection of their screams, of screaming with them, of water closing in, and then she is asleep again.

_~Inbetween~_

_ She dreams of drowning. Of the water leaking into her lungs and burning her, of feeling impossibly full. Of the weight of the water crushing in on her. She dreams and she remembers. They died. She died. Then how come she's still here?_

_Day Two_

The next time she wakes up, Bonnie is there. She's sleeping, and so are Jenna and John. But Jeremy's awake. He's still holding her hand. His eyes snap towards her when she squeezes his fingers. He smiles at her and turns to wake them up, to alert the nurse, but Elena tugs on his arm. He turns back to her and she shakes her head.

"Not yet," she whispers hoarsely. So instead he stands and briefly untangles their fingers to pour her a glass of water. He tries to offer it to her but she shakes her head even more vehemently than before. _No. _

He puts the glass down hesitantly, and rests his forearms on her bed. She finds his hand again and tugs on it insistently until he understands what she wants. With profound gentleness, he picks her up and moves her over, and then crawls into the too small bed with her. She snuggles down against him, wincing at the pain in her ribs, and buries her nose into his collarbone.

"Elena, Mom, Dad, they're," he begins nervously. She shakes her head against his collarbone.

"I know. They're gone," she murmurs huskily. He waits for the tears to fall. They don't. _She doesn't know why she doesn't cry because she knows they're gone. _

She falls asleep with dry eyes pressed against her little brother's collarbone, breathing in the pleasant aroma of charcoal and sweet tea. He holds her like she's going to break. She falls asleep before she can tell him that she's already shattered pieces, there's not much more anyone can do to hurt her now. (She's wrong.)

_~Inbetween~_

_ She dreams of the time her dad taught her how to ride a bike, no training wheels. She remembers his big hands over her tiny ones and the sound of his voice, how safe and warm she felt. And when he lets go, for a second she's flying, coasting through life. Then she falls hard against the unforgiving pavement._

_Day Three_

The next time she wakes up a nurse is there, and everyone else but Jenna and Jeremy are gone. They're both asleep. Jeremy is still in the bed with her. Luckily, the nurse hasn't said a word about it.

The nurse is pretty and young and smells like freshly laundered sheets and gingerbread cookies. Her hair is the color of honey and her eyes are a lazy green. She flashes Elena a smile as sweet as hot chocolate and continues to read her charts.

"It's nice to see those eyes, sweetpea," the nurse says affectionately, her Virginia accent as sweet as maple syrup. "My friend and I had a bet going, she said they'd be brown, but I was right, the prettiest hazel I've ever seen," the nurse concludes sweetly. Elena smiles automatically at the compliment. She clears her voice roughly.

"Thank you," she stumbles through the words, her voice gravely, her throat sore. Her nurse smiles sympathetically.

"Would you like some lemonade?" she asks kindly. Elena feels tears sting at her eyes at the knowing offer. They still won't fall.

"Yes please," Elena murmurs throatily. Of course her nurse would know not to offer water. The nurse leaves quietly, and comes back only a moment later, a tall glass of lemonade in her hand. She holds it to Elena's lips and offers her the bendy straw. Elena sucks it down greedily, rejoicing in the tangy burn.

When she's done her nurse puts it beside the table and smiles down at her. Smooth as liquid, she tucks a stray strand of Elena's dark hair behind her ear, her fingers soft and her touch gently.

"Thank you," Elena says quietly. Her nurse nods.

"Sure thing, sweetpea." She leaves her then, and Elena settles against her brother again, twisting slowly so her face is once again buried in his collarbone. The steady, reassuring beating of his heart lures her back to sleep.

_~Inbetween~_

_This time she dreams about the party. She's standing in the middle of the crowd, looking around for her friends, but everyone's faces are melting and distorting and soon enough they're all turning to water and she drowning in the them and she catches a glimpse of her sweet nurse, struggling for air as a faceless jock pulls her deeper under the water but then Elena is choking and she can't see a thing._

_Day Four_

The next time she wakes up, Caroline is sitting on the end of her bed, reading Seventeen and worrying her teeth into her lip in that way she always does when she's really stressed out or scared. Elena pokes her with her big toe. Caroline drops the magazine and shrieks. Elena can feel Jeremy laughing into her hair as his chest shakes with laughter. She almost smiles. Caroline leans forward and grabs her hand.

"Oh my god, Elena! How are you? I was so worried, you slept so much! I mean, Jer told me you woke up the second day, and your nurse swore you had some lemonade, but every time I was here you were just sleeping and you barely moved and it was so scary!" Caroline babbles.

Elena watches her familiar face light up with expression and dimly wonders if she'll ever have that much energy again, because right now, Elena feels like she's a hundred years old, and there's no way she could say a full sentence, let alone babble out paragraphs and bounce and shriek. She'd collapse in exhaustion.

"I'm okay, Care," Elena says hoarsely. She needs something to drink right about now, her throat hurts again. Jeremy presses the button to call for a nurse, absentmindedly Elena hopes it's the same one from before.

"Are you sure?" Caroline blurts out, her blue eyes wide and expectant. Elena tries to smile, it's more of a grimace, and nods her head dutifully.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she insists, wincing. She isn't fine; it's too early for her to be fine and Caroline knows it. But if she admits it and she doesn't cry, Caroline will wonder what's wrong with her. She doesn't have any tears yet. Just blank numbness that is only interrupted by the pain in her ribs.

"Okay," Caroline responds uncertainly. Her nurse arrives, saving her from her friend's fumbling good intentions. It's the same nurse as before, wearing pink scrubs with forget-me-nots embroidered all over them.

"Hello sweetpea, how ya doin?" she asks sweetly.

"I'm okay, just thirsty, and my ribs hurt," Elena recites obediently. Her nurse nods, reaching over for a pitcher of lemonade that has magically appeared since the last time she slept. She pours her a glass and hands it off to Jeremy who helps her drink from it. When she's done Jeremy passes it back to the nurse and she puts the glass down next to the pitcher.

"I don't know if what you remember, sweetpea, but you broke your ribs in the accident," her nurse explains sympathetically. "Three of 'em, on your left side, and two on your right." Elena nods numbly. She reads her nametag absentmindedly. _Diana. _It's a pretty name. Elena clears her throat.

"I-I remember most of the accident. I remember, losing consciousness, but nothing after that. Not until I woke up in the hospital," Elena explains timidly. Diana nods sweetly and touches her wrist softly. Her hands are soft and she still smells like freshly laundered sheets and gingerbread cookies, but now she also smells overwhelmingly of apples and Elena can't think of a better combination.

Her soft hand withdraws and Elena misses the contact. Diana is a very comforting and nurturing. It makes Elena want to weep and rage and scream but also to collapse against her collarbone and breathe in the scent of her forever.

Elena watches the way the weak light weaves its way into Diana's honey colored hair, curled into a thick bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes are the color of grass and leaves and granny smith apples. Elena finds herself focusing on the small details of this unfamiliar woman, if only to forget that she is in the hospital and her parents are dead and Caroline is seated at the end of the bed looking like she might burst into tears at any second.

Jeremy squeezes her shoulder in two quick pulses and Elena settles against him more comfortably. It's really rather ridiculous that he has stayed with her this whole time, but she's not complaining.

"Well, sweetpea, you get to go home today," Diana announces sweetly. Elena is grateful that she doesn't tell her it's good news. She does want to leave this place, but she doesn't want to go home. Not to the empty house that belonged to _them_. Elena nods, having no words to say.

"When your aunt gets back you can go, you might want to change though," she informs her teasingly. Caroline speaks at last.

"I brought you clothes, and Bonnie is at the house, making brownies and tea," Caroline chirps brightly. Elena tries to smile again, just barely falling short.

"Thanks, Care, that sounds great." Jeremy is still silent. She can feel his cheek resting against her hair, and the steady beating of his heart against her back, and somehow that's enough.

"I'll be back before you leave," Diana promises as she moves towards the door. Elena nods for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She just doesn't know what else to do or say.

Caroline waits until the door closes. Then she turns to her again and leans forward, grabbing her knees, a half-hearted mischievous expression alight on her face.

"Your nurse, is so hot!" Caroline declares enthusiastically. Elena rolls her eyes at her. Jeremy lets out a bark of laughter. Caroline gives them an incredulous look. "Oh come on, you both have totally noticed it. She's gorgeous! I would hate her if she weren't so damn _sweet. _She also smells really good!" Caroline jabbers. Elena silently agrees, Diana is very pretty, and sweet, and she does smell wonderful.

"Maybe you should get dressed?" Jeremy suggests, speaking at last. "Jenna and John are bound to be back soon." Elena nods in agreement and Caroline hops off the bed to grab the bag with Elena's stuff in it. Jeremy slowly helps her sit up.

He slides off the bed and holds his arms out to support her. She wraps her fingers around his elbows and he grasps her wrists gently but firmly. Slowly she moves to put her weight on her legs. They ache with disuse, but after a minute or so she can stand. Caroline asks if she wants to shower. Elena shakes her head. She's not ready yet.

Jeremy turns to look at the wall and Caroline helps her dress in a blue floral sundress and a large, soft, red sweater. Her converses are relatively unscathed, so Caroline hands her pink polka dotted socks and Elena sits on the bed to pull them on. Caroline insists on tying her shoelaces for her and Elena lets her.

Caroline tells Jeremy that he can turn back around just as she attacks Elena's hair with a brush. She manages the tangles with practiced ease and then easily weaves Elena's hair into a loose braid. She flips the braid over Elena's shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her shoulder blade, and then jumps off the bed.

"I need coffee," she declares, grabbing her purse and marching from the room smartly.

Jeremy sits on the edge of the bed with her, their legs hanging off. He holds her hand and she leans her head against his shoulder.

"It's my fault," she murmurs without moving.

"No it's not," he murmurs back firmly. Elena doesn't reply, she just sets her mouth firmly. She doesn't need him to lie to her; she knows it is.

Caroline returns with her coffee. Jenna and John appear. Diana comes and sends them off with a smile. Elena barely gets a chance to grasp her hand and thank her before she's shuffled into the car, nestled between Jeremy and Caroline. She holds Jeremy's hand so tight she thinks she might break it. He doesn't even flinch.

Every sound the car makes is loud; but not as loud as the blood rushing in her head and the pounding of her heart. She can barely stand when they finally pull into the driveway. Jeremy supports her with an arm around her waist and for once she's grateful for the growth spurt that made him taller than her.

When they open the door, Bonnie is already there, a fretful expression on her face and Matt hovering over her shoulder. Elena allows herself to be swept up in their comfort. She doesn't feel anything though. She's on autopilot. Someone else has taken the wheel.

Everyone hovers, they ask if she needs anything, they offer her food and tea, but no one offers her water or a shower. For that she's grateful. Several times the others have to excuse themselves to wipe the tears from their faces. Elena still has not cried. She's too numb for that.

Eventually she can barely keep her eyes open and Jeremy helps her upstairs, Caroline following behind to help her dress in her pajamas. She curls into her childhood bed, the dark wrapping around her like a scarf. She didn't let anyone stay. She needs to be alone, at least for this first night.

_~Inbetween~_

_ She dreams of the time Jeremy fell out of a tree and broke his leg. She had been so scared, the unnatural angle of his leg, the unbidden sobs he let out. She'd carried him all the way home from the park. He was almost the same size as her, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins had kept her from dropping him or stopping to rest. Her dad called her his little hero. The dream abruptly fills with water._

_Day Five_

She wakes up to the smell of pancakes. For a second she doesn't register the pain in her ribs or the ache in her chest. She rolls over and flutters open her eyes, smiling at the thought of eating her dad's pancakes. Jeremy is sleeping in the bed next to her. He must have had a nightmare. Then all at once she remembers. The numbness folds in on her and the smile fades from her face.

Jeremy wakes up only seconds later. He gives her a sheepish look.

"Sorry, I know you said you wanted to be alone, but I had a nightmare where…" he trails off. _You died. _Those are the words that hang in the air between them.

"It's okay, Jer, I don't mind," she responds. And she doesn't. She can't begrudge him the small comfort of crawling into his older sister's bed in the middle of the night. She never did before, and she isn't going to now. She sits up slowly. Her ribs protest against their wrappings. She does not release the groan of pain from her clenched teeth.

Slowly she climbs out of her bed and moves towards her closet. She's determined to dress herself. She dresses haphazardly in a white cotton skirt and the same red sweater from before. She pads down the stairs barefooted while Jeremy takes a shower.

Uncle John greets her hesitantly from his place at the sink. It's clear that he's the one who cooked. The Sommer women are not known for their cooking skills. Jenna pours her a glass of orange juice.

"Did you sleep well, Elena?" Jenna asks tentatively. Elena thinks of her dreams that always seem to fill with water, and nods her head.

"Just fine," she says distantly. John places a plate with pancakes and bacon in front of her. She covers all of it in syrup and eats slowly. Jeremy comes down the stairs and sits beside her, filling his own plate.

His hair is wet and he's changed clothes but he still smells like charcoal and sweet tea. It's ingrained itself into all of his clothes and Elena has always loved the smell. It's what her brother loves best, drawing and the classic Southern drink. Sure enough, Jenna pours him a glass of it and he thanks her, taking a large gulp.

After breakfast Jenna nervously broaches the subject of the funeral. She clears her throat and glances at John. He is stoic.

"Um, guys, the funeral is the day after tomorrow, and we need to get you something to wea-," she begins but Elena cuts her off.

"I have a dress," she says flatly.

Jenna looks relieved. "You do?" Elena nods.

"Yeah, it's black, I wore it to the…" she trails off. Frowning, she realizes she can't remember what she wore it to. "I have a dress," she repeats.

"Good," Jenna says with obvious relief. She turns to Jeremy, eyebrows raised.

"I have a suit, and a tie. It's black," he offers shortly, his jaw clenched. Jenna nods and that's that.

Jenna goes to Grayson's office to continue making arrangements, and John excuses himself to make a call. Jeremy wanders off to his room and Elena takes the stairs with unsteady grace. At last she comes to the top. She trails her fingers along the wall until she reaches the staircase towards the attic. She climbs them with trembling legs.

It's the same. Same high ceilings, same red velvet chaise, same olive green piano, same record collection, same afghan, same faded Oriental carpet. It's all the same. Elena is the one who is different. She walks to the piano and closes the lid with a flick of her wrist. She won't play again. Not anytime soon, at least.

She curls up on the chaise, pulling the afghan up over her head and closes her eyes. She falls asleep quicker than she thought possible.

_~Inbetween~_

_ She dreams of playing. Her fingers fly across the keys, firmly and quickly, weaving a melody so beautiful her entire being seems to collapse in on itself. Her hands are cramping up, her fingers have begun to bleed, but she can't stop now, she can't bear to stop, she never wants the song to end. The blood smears on the keys and turns to water, and she stops at last. The scream that pours out of her mouth is endless and loud._

_Day Six_

Her hand is shoved into her mouth to muffle her scream when she awakens. It's still dark outside. She removes her hand from her mouth, swallowing the blood and saliva in her mouth. She wipes her hand on the chaise, wincing at the sting.

She can just barely make out the shape of her brother sleeping on the floor. With a sigh she sits up and folds the afghan. She shakes him awake and silently leads him down the stairs. She tucks him into her bed and he's asleep before he can say a word. She undresses shakily, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She curls up in the crook of his arm. She doesn't fall back asleep.

She's haunted by the song she played in her dreams. Before, she would've written it out, tried to play it. But now she only snuggles against her brother more and tries desperately to forget the notes and variations that swim in her mind. She can't play anymore. She just can't.

It's like that all day. She hears the song in everything, she sees the notes written out everywhere, but she fights against it. She will not play. She cannot play. She distracts herself with talk shows and bad TV, but it doesn't rip the song from her mind. It's haunting her. She clenches her fist so tightly that by the end of the day there are perfect crescent shaped wounds in her palm.

She's never gone this long without playing. Ever. But she's never played without her father listening. Ever. She can't play without him listening. She just can't.

_~Inbetween~_

_ She's playing again. And her father is watching her. He's sitting on the chaise, his eyes half-closed and his head tilted in appreciation of the music. Her chest fills with pride. She made this. The music filling the room is hers, and her father thinks it's beautiful. Her fingers bleed and it turns to water and suddenly her father is drowning and so is she._

_Day Seven_

They bury her parents on the seventh day. Jenna zips her into the perfect little black dress and frets about the tight fit, worried that it will agitate her ribs, but Elena relishes the pressure of it against her broken ribs. The pain is the only thing keeping her alive. Jenna braids her hair into one long, graceful braid and helps her into her black shoes.

Jeremy and John are waiting when they get downstairs. Jer's tie is crooked and Elena straightens it mechanically. He takes her hand and doesn't let go. The car ride is just as nerve-wracking as the first and the cuts on her knuckles split open against the pressure of her clenched fist. She absentmindedly sucks the blood from her hands until it no longer bleeds.

The car stops at the church where the service will be held. Jeremy helps her from the car. The whole town is there. The air is hot, too hot for spring, and Elena doesn't know if she is breathing or not.

Matt is there, with Vicki, and he's watching her with his sad eyes. Tyler, Caroline, and Bonnie stand near them. She doesn't let go of Jeremy's hand to go to them. They have enough sense not to come to her. She doesn't want them. She doesn't want anyone except maybe Jeremy and the people they were burying in the ground today.

When the speeches begin Elena feels her stomach lurch. She's going to puke all over the floor. She's going to spew out water and blood and remorse all over the pretty hardwood floors and then she's going to choke on it and die. She doesn't.

The speeches keep coming. Elena's hand never leaves Jeremy's. No one expects them to make a speech, which is good, because they don't.

At last it is over. They stand to go to the burial site. The coffins are lowered and Jeremy squeezes Elena's hand so hard she can't feel it. She squeezes back just as hard. And then they're moving forward as one entity, to throw the first clump of dirt onto their father's coffin, and then their mother's. They move back together, hands still linked. Then more and more people come forward, each throwing their own clump of black soil.

Elena has the sudden urge to climb down into the hole, lie down on top of her mother's coffin and wait for her body to be covered in soil, wait for her chest to collapse under the weight of it all. To wait for her body to decay, for her nails to stop growing and for her bones to split through rotting skin, for maggots to crawl out of her eyelids.

The image is so ridiculous she begins to laugh. She bends forward and laughs so hard she swears her ribs are cracking apart again. Her hand is still in Jeremy's and everyone is staring but she just can't stop. She's laughing great, harsh, barking laughter, and it sounds horrible, like an out of tune piano. People begin to whisper, half-frightened, half-fascinated.

"Elena, stop it," Jeremy hisses next to her, but she can't stop. She couldn't stop if her life depended on it. He yanks on her arm but the laughter just keeps spilling from her lips and she knows he's angry, but she can't help it; she's lost her mind. He releases her hand and it takes all her training as a cheerleader to not face plant directly into the grass.

No one will ever forget how Elena Gilbert laughed hysterically at her parents' funeral. No one will forget how no matter how hard she laughed, not a single tear slid down her face.

Later, when she is home, and everyone is offering their condolences and skittering around her, as if they're afraid that she'll start laughing again, she wishes she had been able to hold it in. If only so that Jeremy wouldn't have let go of her hand. If only he hadn't snuck out back with Vicki to have a smoke.

Elena escapes to her bedroom and kicks off her shoes. She opens her window and maneuvers herself onto the roof rather clumsily. It has cooled down considerably now that the sun has gone down. She shivers in the cold air, but doesn't return to her warm room.

She sits up there and listens as the roar of voices slowly fade, until the house is almost empty and nearly silent. She hears Jenna call her name at her door. She doesn't respond and eventually she leaves. She listens as Jeremy gets ready for bed, and slowly all the lights are turned off.

She sits there on the roof until the sun begins to rise. And on the dawn of the eighth day of the end of her world, Elena Gilbert finally cries.


End file.
